“It’s wicked,” said Harry Gray.
“So it is,” replied Albert. “But we won’t talk about it any more now.”
The lad who was the occupant of the apartment was silent for a few moments, then he said sadly,—
“Five days gone—five days. Albert, I think I will tell you a secret.”
“A secret, Harry?”
“Yes; it is a very strange one, and has made me very unhappy. Come here.”
He took the hand of his companion and led him to a corner of the room where there was a large, old-fashioned oaken chest, and taking from his breast a key, he opened it, and lifting the lid, disclosed lying at the bottom of it a roll of paper, and under that a large sealed packet.
Harry Gray lifted out the roll of paper and handed it to Albert, saying, “Read what is written there,” pointing to a few lines on the wrapper.
Albert read with surprise the following words:—
Wednesday.—Harry,—If I am not with you by twelve of the clock on next Wednesday, take this roll of papers to Sir Francis Hartleton, who lives in the Bird-cage. Walk by the Park. Do not let any hand but his own take it from you.